Do you ever wonder where your physical traits come from? I sure do.

I mean I can look at my parents and see where my blue eyes come from and whose teeth I have and so on, but I’ve always wondered about my weird-looking chubby knees that seem to be prevalent on my mom’s side of the family.

‘Unique knees,’ an old boyfriend tactfully called them once.

Outside of mom’s family, I have never seen anyone with legs like mine. Well once I did. I was in the Dominican Republic with Mom and there was a family there; a mom and dad with two teenagers and they ALL had legs like mine! They were from Norway or Finland or Iceland or something.

They were tall, blond, blue-eyed and looked like Vikings! But it was their legs that caught my attention!

Look Mom! They have legs like us!

Are they the descendants of Vikings, I wondered? Am I a descendant of Vikings? It would sure explain a lot about parts of my personality!

I know my grandmother’s family came from Sweden, so maybe, right? Anyway, I got it in my head that I’m a Viking ever since I saw that family in the DR.

So I finally broke down and ordered a DNA kit from 23 and me.

What’s your best guess on my ethnicity?

I can’t wait to find out if I’m a Viking or not.

And I will keep you posted!

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

Have you ever sent away for a DNA kit? Do you know where your ancestors came from? If so, let me know in the comment section!

When you want to build something, you start with a good foundation. When you want to understand something, you start with the fundamental pillars of the subject. In other words, you learn the history, the mechanics of it, the whys and whats and wheres.

In the same way, when you feel lost, it helps to go back to where you began so you can remember where you came from, what you have learned about this business of living, what you truly long for in life, and how you can get it and how you can share your gifts with the world. Sometimes you grab onto a symbol of the past and carry it with you like a talisman that you can look at, or touch when you need to be grounded.

Since Dad passed away, I’ve been in kind of a fog. I got the basics covered, you know… I wake up, brush my teeth, shower, dress, exercise, go to work, eat, go to bed and start it all over again the next day.

But I’ve lost a bit of my oomph.

A bit of my zest for life.

Dad was always my rock.

He had this way of making me feel secure and letting me know that he was there for me, no matter what.

My Plan B, if Plan A should fail.

Although I rarely resorted to Plan B, I knew I could if I had to, I knew it was there if I needed it.

This past New Year’s Eve, as I was deciding which piece of jewelry to wear for an event I was attending, I came across the ring with the blue stone. The ring that cost forty dollars in 1960 and took Dad several weeks of saving so he could buy it for Mom to celebrate their first anniversary.

Dad was so upset when Mom gave me that ring almost thirty years later. But I’m so glad she did, so I could find it on the last day of 2016 and slip it on my finger. And with the wearing of it, remember the values he taught me and the traits he exemplified; like a good work ethic, empathy, diplomacy, loyalty and strength of character.

There was a time when it was considered good and sensible to accept one’s lot in life with grace and gratitude. A time when if your father was a servant, it would follow that you would be a servant, and your son would be a servant.

These days, we tell ourselves that we can be whoever we want to be. Some folks achieve their dreams, many don’t.

I wonder have we set ourselves up for failure and ultimately, a life of misery because of it?

Just as with any stream of contemporary thought in any given time in human history, when we examine our ideals over a long period of time, we discover that the pendulum has swung from one extreme to another.

So I find myself thinking it best that the pendulum rest somewhere in the middle.

That it doesn’t have to be completely this way or that.

That purpose can be found in this way AND that.

That any person using their unique gifts can set their world on fire; no matter their station in life.

It was a beautiful Friday morning when I stepped out of my apartment to walk to the Mustard Seed. I intentionally chose a route that would take me past the original Mustard Seed at 521 13 Avenue SW.

Although the building no longer exists and the site has become an extension of First Baptist’s parking lot, it is a place that I often come to when I feel lost or need to make a major decision – a sacred space, if you will.

In my mind’s eye I can still see all the people on the porch of the old house that served as The Seed’s coffee house drop-in. Back then, the idea of housing folks who were homeless was just a glint in our eye, a dream we kept like a treasure in our hearts.

Unknown to us at the time, people like Jeff would spend the night wrapped in a sleeping bag tucked behind the boards under the porch. And occasionally I brought teenaged girls home with me, or spent the night with them at that old house.

The old Veteran’s Hospital used to be across the street where the Sheldon Chumir Health Centre now stands. I remember seeing the faces of the old Veterans pressed against the windows, no doubt wondering what in tarnation was going on across the street. When they learned that we would be moving to 102 11 Avenue SE in the early 90s, they lamented that they would miss, what they called, the greatest entertainment around.

Ahh but that was then and this is now. And I was on my way to the Mustard Seed for the grand opening of the 1010 Centre.

Steve Wile, CEO, Mustard Seed

Stephen Wile, CEO of the Mustard Seed welcomed his guests including donors, government representatives, members of the Resolve Campaign team and past and present staff and volunteers.

He spoke of his gratitude to all in attendance; those who were there in the beginning with the vision and dream, those who began the process of implementing the plan and those who now occupy the centre’s spaces and facilitate hopes and dreams within its walls.

Pat Nixon, former CEO and founder of Mustard Seed

Pat Nixon, former CEO and Founder of the Mustard Seed spoke to the beginnings of the vision, the early meetings with key stakeholders and the objections and NIMBYism that arose and were overcome.

He went on to talk about the NOW, the new beginning in a building containing homes for up to 224 people and how these homes will change the lives of thousands.

Then a current resident spoke. She started by saying that three years ago she had it all; things were going well.

And then her husband died. And she fell into a depression and lost her job. Things continued on a downward spiral until she lost her home and was living in her car.

She eventually ended up at the 1010 Centre and spoke about the programs and wonderful staff who have lifted her out of despair.

“I don’t know if you noticed when you walked in,” she said. “But there are three little words on the main floor – Hope Grows Here – check it out when you leave, if you didn’t see it on the way in. Those words are true.”

The grand opening included other inspirational speakers, a tour of the facility and an incredible lunch. I got to see people I haven’t seen in years and I was witness to the dream, realized.

It was an emotional event for me, one that I feel honoured to have been invited to and privileged to have attended.

“Now he who plants and he who waters are one, and each one will receive his own reward according to his own labor.”

~ HUMP DAY CHRONICLES ~

I am fortunate to see this dream fulfilled. Often that isn’t the case in life. Do you ever wonder about how something you started turned out in the end?

I think we owe a whole lot of gratitude to whoever invented the wheel.

Photo credit: Wikipedia

Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of fire, but no one really invented fire.

Some Neanderthal somewhere, back in the day, was probably caught in a grass fire or saw an old dead tree get struck by lightning and used one of the burning sticks to start the very first campfire. It was just dumb luck – a total fluke!

I do wonder how he brought it home though. Did he make a trail of campfires all the way back to the cave?

And once the fire was burning at the cave, did the clan hire a Keep-the-Fire-Burning technician? And what happened to the KTFB technician if he let the fire go out?

Did it result in banishment? Would he have to scour the land for another lightning storm or grass fire?

Or did he figure out how to start a fire with sticks? Discover flint? Or simply pick up a Bic at the 7-11 on the way to the yearly clan gathering?

And once fires really caught on (Did you catch that clever pun?), did clan women complain that their men were watching fire for hours on end instead of hunting for food?

Did it cause a bunch of collisions because teenagers were running around all willy-nilly with burning sticks, mesmerized by the fire and not paying attention to where they were going?

And once they figured out smoke signals, did they become fat and lazy because they no longer ran to the next cave to deliver messages in person?

Is that when the anti-social trend actually started and face-to-face conversation began its decline?

Anyway, I digress.

“You don’t need wheels when you got legs,” said no one ever!

I want to talk about the GENIUS who invented the wheel. Although fire brought creature comforts like S’mores to the clan, it did not open up a world of possibilities like the wheel did.

Up until the invention of the wheel, travel took a lot longer, demanded a lot more physical strength and if you had to move a lot of stuff, multiple trips were necessary.

Sure the taming of horses and dogs and getting them to drag around a travois was helpful, but still not as magnificent as the wheel.

Yes, the invention of the wheel put our ancestors in motion. The Age of Serious Travel began that day. And unlike the day before, one could now bring more than just their carry-on luggage.

Wagons with two wheels could carry gifts for the tens of new people they would meet on their journey. Travellers could bring all their clothes and save themselves the trouble of finding a river to wash their laundry along the way. Heck they could pretty much bring any little thing their hearts desired!

Yes life was good now, and all thanks to the genius who invented the wheel!

Unlike the so-called Fire Inventor, who we previously established a mere opportunist at best, the Wheel Inventor did not have the benefit of a natural disaster that resulted in wheels dropping into his lap. So how, exactly, did the Wheel Inventor come up with the wheel?

Did it come to him/her in a prophetic dream or vision of a boulder rolling down the side of a mountain and as it did, pieces chipped off and formed a wheel?

Or did it occur to the pimply teenager who collided into clan members while watching his stupid burning stick, as he scrambled to remain balanced like a beachcomber on the rolling beer barrel he was delivering to the ‘successful hunting party’ celebration in the field by the lake?

I guess we’ll never know for sure, but one thing is certain, I think we owe a whole lot of gratitude to whoever invented the wheel!